Chapter Four
In Memoriam
Times were good.
We lived in Canterlot, in a big, elegant house the envy of our neighbours surrounded by a forest of cherry trees. Father owned large swathes of land in far off Appaloosa and charged the government ponies for its usage. The money flowed in. Mother wore fine sweeping dresses ordered exclusively from the Ponyville Boutique, covered in glittering gems that lit the street as she walked by. She was as kind as summer. I was the happiest colt in the world.
Then the government ponies came, and took. The lands were gone, acquired, so they said, to fund the war effort. Taxes rose and rose. The money flowed out and stayed out. There were no words, just Mother crying as her favourite dresses were sold away, just Father looking greyer and thinner with every passing day. I did all the foalish things I could to make them happy. I brought Father the things I made at the new school, and he smiled and ruffled my mane, just for a moment the years fading. I brought Mother the flowers I conjured from thin air, and she smiled and embraced me, just for a moment the tears stemmed.
We sold the house and moved to Manehattan, to a little apartment somehow saved from the financial chaos. Father and Mother found jobs in a metro station, paper-pushing and ticket-punching for the government. We were diminished, but content.
Then school ended one day. I ran the length of the whole block with a bouquet of conjured blooms flying by my side and made it home. To find empty rooms, still warm tea, the scent of fear, and the neighbors watching and whispering. Traitors! Spies! Poor young colt…
Then I was alone.
All the remaining property and capital (minus death duties) came to me. I was old enough to look after myself, but still too young to take things as seriously as I should have. Fights were common. The street ponies made the mistake of seeing the shy grey unicorn colt as an easy target, but I had learned much since arriving in the big city.
That’s how I met her.
The wars ate up everything and food was expensive. So I was overjoyed to find half a pizza, still warm, discarded by swaggering soldiers who could take what they liked whenever they wanted it. On the way home however I could feel eyes following me. Shadows flitted from corner to corner as I hurried over the block. I almost made it too, before the length of splintered timber swung from behind, connecting with a nauseating crunch. I felt sick, the world span nightmarishly. Senses I didn't know I possessed rolled me aside as a hoof swung down, slamming the pavement where my head would have been. Scrambling back, I made out a pony through the ringing haze, bigger than me, muscular, a heavy face twisted with cruelty. There were others behind him, lurking in his shadow.
“Weel, lookit what we got here…!”
Even with unconsciousness looming close I found my tongue.
“That line’s old Bricky, learn some new words”
“Huh, funny. Will yous be laughing when I kick ye’ fuckin’ teeth out?”
“Bricky, I was laughing when the condom broke. Ain’t going to stop now”
His crude features slowly hardened as he worked out he’d been insulted again. Then I had an idea.
“Catch!” I yelled, throwing the half pizza high into the air.
The crowd of hungry ponies surged forward, their loyalty disappearing in the face of food, and suddenly I found myself at the bottom of a melee. I wormed through the thrashing legs, and suddenly felt something squishy on the pavement beneath me.
Snatching the now sadly battered pizza I scrabbled for the edge of the fight, dodging stones, knives and flailing hooves. I managed to stand and was about to run, until without warning Bricky rose up before me like an angry god, blood running from a cut on his forehead and snorting with rage. He raised his club. I prepared myself for death.
There was a splintering noise, glass tinkled. Bricky toppled forward like a felled tree.
And there she was.
A coat of purest black, a short-cut mane of bright, burning silver, a tail that flowed like mercury. She looked me in the eye, her long, inexpressibly lovely face crooked into a wry, cunning smile. Her eyes were golden, and shone like gems.
A broken bottle hung at my neck in a haze of magic.
“I’ll be having that thank you very much” she said sweetly.
I looked down at the mangled foodstuff. I looked at her, perfect in every way.
“Uh…you sure?”
“Mmm…yes, quite sure. Quickly please…” Even she appeared unconvinced.
“Ere! Ee’s got the grub!” cried a voice.
I swore and before she could react threw the wretched thing back into the scrum. It vanished again.
She cursed as well, foully. I was shocked. She didn’t have the starved appearance of all the other baseless foals here. As well as being impeccably well groomed she wore a black leather jacket around her shoulders, studded with metal rivets and practically smelling of money. Tasteful gold gleamed on her ears, and her voice, like mine, was refined spoken Equestrian. She was definitely no street rat.
“You stupid fucking donkey what’d you do that for?!” she yelled, her beauty transforming into something demonic.
I goggled. “Wh…what? It’s just a damn pizza!”
“That was a message from one of my informants you mangy, worm-ridden knacker! I’ve been waiting for that fucking thing for months!” The bottle pressed in, and I gulped, searching for something, anything, that would save my life.
“Um...uh…I’ve got some food stashed at my place so would you like to come and get something? Um…I mean, please don’t rob the place but…uh…y’know…”
Fucking. Brilliant. Now I was definitely going to die.
Her expression changed. It started from honest confusion, moved on to amazed disbelief, passed through wariness and finished around absolute, vindictive amusement.
“You’re asking me out. In the middle of a fight. When I’ve got a shank against your jugular” she said slowly, relishing every word and grinning like a timber wolf.
The enormity of my own stupidity sank in, and every second was suddenly an eternity of burning shame.
“Uh…okay I’ll just be going then…” I muttered, talking to the floor. I tried to slip past and escape, to hide in my apartment until the Zebra’s came and kicked down the door.
“Just one moment…” she said in a tone the brooked no argument, the jagged bottle applying firm pressure. I stopped, fidgeting slightly.
She plucked with a hoof at something on my shoulder. Drawing back I could see it was a smear of cheese from the ruined pizza. A strip of paper protruded from the sticky globule. She pulled it free, wiping the cheese off on my coat, and pocketed it with satisfaction, before looking me up and down in the manner of one inspecting a target for robbery, analyzing for any potential value. The bottle gently withdrew. The grin stayed.
"Listen, sweetheart..." she said, reaching forward and patting my cheek, ever so slowly "I'm flattered, but...well...I'm not. Not really. You're a moron. An idiot. And you're lucky I don't render your puberty very, very uninteresting."
She laughed, high and musically. "Oh don't look like that, darling!" she giggled, and planted a soft kiss on my bowed forehead. "I'm sure you'll find someone as stupid as you are..."
She walked away, hips swinging, disappearing like a voice on the wind. The memory of the kiss remained, a soft breath that stung like poison. I stared at the ground, ignoring the pathetic melee still going on behind me, thinking.
Perhaps I was stupid. I'm was here anyway. No parents, in an alleyway stinking of piss and famine, fighting over miserable scraps that a dog would scorn. Perhaps Equestria didn't like stupid. Perhaps I was just that stupid I deserved it.
I looked up, and grinned in satisfaction.
"Not stupid enough..," I said to the air "To leave my wallet hanging out"
*** *** ***
My life changed after that. The neighborhood toughs who haunted my block began disappearing, sometimes to be found later with broken glass inserted in tender areas. I decided to stay even more unobtrusive than usual, reasoning that the mystery mare was probably looking for her lost property, looking very hard and impolitely, and asking a lot of questions that didn't require a lot of teeth to answer.
However, fate seemed to have had enough of stupid.
I was lucky enough to have a job at all. It was hard work, repetitive and back breaking, but the few bits I gleaned were worth a square meal.
That's what I told myself anyway, as I soaked the squeegee and applied it to the Imperial crest on door of the military patrol cart. It squeaked back and forth, dousing the smugly gleaming symbol in streaks of foam.
Squeak...
Squeak...
Squeeeeaak...
"ARE YOU FUCKING DONE YET!?" screamed a voice six inches behind my head.
I sighed, and lowered the squeegee. "No Corporal Skillet, sorry Corporal Skillet."
A hoof struck my shoulder, spinning me around. I looked into the twisted features of Mechanic-Corporal Skillet, the familiar dictatorial smirk making my heart sink. His nostrils flared as he drew a gleeful breath.
"And h'what...!" he barked "... is you doing there exactly?"
I was so fucking tired. I could have told him I was doing his own fucking job for him. I could have told him to spin on it. I very nearly told him I was readying his mother for launch towards the enemy, and that her simply staggering ugliness would surely wipe them from the planet.
Instead, I saluted, squeegee pole smacking the ground with military precision. "I am cleaning these military transports, Corporal"
His bullet eyes gleamed with malice. "You are correct there, civilian! Most correct! And do you know how I know that?"
"No Corporal Ski..."
"COS' I SEEN YOU DOIN' IT ALL BLEEDIN' DAY!"
I felt a speck of saliva begin its slow crawl down my forehead.
"WHAT'S TAKIN' SO BLOODY LONG CIVVIE?" he roared. His rank breath stank of cheap whiskey.
"I've done seventy carts today Corporal," I said weakly, knowing that nothing would stop him from administering his favorite punishment.
"You is going to carry on taking so bloody long...!" he hissed "...all bloody night! And all bloody tomorrow as well! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, CIVILIAN!"
While you collect three day's wages, I added in the privacy of my own head.
"Yes Corporal Skillet"
He leaned close, his noxious muzzle millimeters away, breath hissing in and out.
"I shall return before lights out. To check on you."
He went, slamming the door behind him. I struggled not to puke.
That was...worrying. The state unofficially employed a great many of Manehatten's street urchins in menial chores, and working in Skillet's garage was generally considered a prison sentence. In addition to regular overwork and underpaying there were... rumors.
I shuddered, and pulled myself together, the cold weight in my utility barding providing a measure of comfort. If the mangy bastard showed any signs he'd find a six-inch screwdriver where he least expected it.
With an exhausted groan I pulled the lever next to the garage doors. They slid open with a metallic squeal and another cart rolled in, fresh off patrol and freshly filthy. Pop hood. Scan. Change oil. Scrub.
Squeeeeaak...
*** *** ***
The bucket tipped over and fell with a clang like a funeral bell, spilling its contents in a widening pool across the floor.
The shaking wouldn't stop, no matter how many carts needed cleaning. My eyes wouldn't focus, my muscles twanged back and forth and the squeegee pole must have been made of lead.
Squeeeeaak...
Squeeeeaak...
Squeeeeaak...
Crash!
I was too tired to swear. I had just enough energy to look up, and check which window I had broken on the patrol cart. But then I remembered they were bulletproof, and no matter how clumsy I was they were impregnable to even the fiercest blow from a squeegee.
Then...
I turned, expecting to see Skillet emerging from the darkness. Instead, there was the rear-end of a pony protruding from the shattered window into Skillet's office. It was quickly followed by a body, some more legs, a head, and a filing cabinet. The cabinet clanked and rattled and after considerable muffled swearing it slowly emerged, two more ponies hanging on to the other end. It appeared to be presenting them with some difficulty.
"Come on screwball pull harder, the damn thing's stuck!" hissed one in as loud a whisper as possible.
"I'n 'arryin' th' fuffen' 'ing I mu 'eeth 'ipshit!" mumbled the first, teeth clamped on a rope around the cabinet.
"Why'd she have to bail on us?" The other one complained "She could've magicked it out, but no! We have to be the bloody donkeys now!"
"Shut up and push. You may be a mare too but she'll knock you down for talking shit."
There was the sound of a hoof colliding with the back of a skull. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?"
"Atch th' 'abinet!"
The cabinet groaned and fell forward. The pony holding the rope let go rather than have his muzzle plastered to the concrete, and the cabinet crashed down, spilling paper.
"Oh for crying out loud what'd you do that for you gelded, stallion-stuffing donkey-botherer!"
As his enraged voice echoed through the garage, they noticed me.
There was a pregnant pause. The squeegee clattered to the floor. Then, an unwelcomely familiar voice rang out, bored and listless.
"Now ,fillies and colts, what did I tell you about unnecessary noise...?"
Oh no...
A white glow of magic illuminated the room, and sauntering through the garage doors she came, mane shimmering above an expression of near terminal boredom. She looked from her immobile cronies to me, and I flinched under recognition like a thunder-stroke.
"You..."
I had never been more terrified in my life.
"Hold it right there you little fuckers!"
The halogen lamps in the roof snapped on, obliterating the magical glow in a blinding glare and creating a criss-crossing network of black and white. At the side door stood Skillet, painted in hideous monochrome. White on black, black on white. He looked like death. Hollow eyes of deepest shade, bones of white light, a bright dagger of shine along the rifle barrel protruding from a battle-saddle. He grinned.
"I was wondering what all the racket was. Who are you? Actually, I don't care. You're obviously just some street trash." His eyes lit on the filing cabinet. "Oh-ho! That's military property that is...!" his grin widened grotesquely, "...you're in a lot of trouble now, my children..."
When the lights had come on I had been standing beside the patrol cart. Now I was bathed in impenetrable shadow, heart pounding, trying not to move, trying not to do anything that might attract his attention.
But I recognized that voice. That tone. And it stirred something within me. A deep, seething hatred, so intense my stomach clenched with nausea. His voice, his disgusting mannerisms, the greasy fall of mane. He repulsed me. Every single aspect of his existence awoke nothing but disgust. I stared at the back of his head, mildly surprised that he didn't burst into flames, and felt myself reaching for the screwdriver.
"Tell you what kids..." Skillet said, in a voice of oil and poison "...let's make a deal..."
The black and silver mare stepped forward, Skillet's rifle following her every move. She said nothing, just staring at Skillet as he looked her up and down.
"And who's this...?" Skillet purred.
She raised her chin, and gave him a look of pure, unadulterated contempt,
"I'm Stellar..." she said "...and you mister, are without doubt the biggest piece of shit I have ever laid eyes on"
I walked silently behind Skillet in a kind of daze, taking the screwdriver between my teeth. It gleamed.
Then he laughed. A horrible, gloating chuckle , gurgling at the back of his throat.
"What a mouth on you..." he laughed "What a pretty, pretty mouth..."
I was directly behind him, his mere presence an insult. I crouched, and leapt.
The air sang in my ears, my adolescent muscles surged, the screwdriver shone. The tip flew and pierced Skillet's skin, a stab, a shiver as the point entered and flowed. I let go and scrambled back, suddenly afraid. He staggered and turned, the hilt protruding from his neck. He gawped, lips working silently, eyes invisible pools of dark, taking a step towards me. And another. And another. He wasn't dead! Why wasn't he dead! Cold terror stabbed me with icy shards, he wasn't dying! A soft whimper escaped my throat and I shrunk back.
Then he swayed. A liquid gurgling came from his open mouth, and darkness dripped. He tried to take another step, stumbled and fell, knees cracking loudly to the concrete. He stared at me blindly, head lolling, black eyes, black mouth. Then, with a soft, bubbling sigh, he gently lay down his head, and stopped moving.
Not simply being still. Total lack of movement, of anything.
Dead, even.
The other ponies were silent, features invisible in the half-light. Stellar stepped forward. Her mane shone. She walked up to me, and put her head on one side, expression unreadable.
"You're not really as spineless as you first appear, are you?" she said.
I hung my head, and said nothing.
She addressed her followers, while holding me in her golden gaze. "What are you fools standing around for? Get the bloody papers!"
They scrambled to obey, while she, Stellar, laid a hoof on my shoulder.
"Okay hero, why don't we go to a safe place I know and dump off your friend here on the way? I think I might be able to find a use for you, if you want it?"
In my mind I teetered on the edge of a precipice. One small step, and I would be gone, down and out.
"Will I have to wash things?" I asked.
She gave a wry smile, and wrinkled her nose. "Only yourself."
I smiled back faintly. "I think that sounds perfectly agreeable."
"We'll have to do something about that accent too. You don't say 'perfectly agreeable' on the streets I run."
We walked through the door, and into starlight.
"Oh, and one last thing..."
"Yes?"
"I want my fucking wallet back you son-of-a-bitch."
*** *** ***
I saw Stellar again many times, and learned that she had friends in low places. She showed me a darker side of the city I’d never seen before, a place of neon and night-time, and wherever we walked I saw shadows following. She laughed it off, and promised to introduce me sometime to her ‘guardians’. She laughed everything off, that mare. And when she laughed, she shone. She only had to toss her head and the light reflected off in a thousand tiny suns. Her golden eyes, her smile, her presence, her laughter. They became the things I longed for most, more than food, more than endlessly scrabbling in the gutter to stay alive for one more day.
I eventually did meet them, the ponies who lurked like shades beyond the light. I was only half-surprised that they were in her employ, and a rougher bunch of buckers there has never been. And yet she had them all wrapped around her hoof. There was Bolt-On, a one-eyed earth pony with a penchant for fireworks and a home-made prosthetic foreleg. Legend, a wickedly good shot, with her white coat covered in tattoos. And finally Clink, a bulky, muscular pony nevertheless an expert in locksmithing. These skills were necessary in their line of work.
Crime. Not any crime in particular, just all round law breaking. Theft, vandalism, extortion, fraud, murder, it was all the same, and in that first heady month of rebellion I learned that the rules only applied if you let them. I was lookout at first, watching for the guards as the others broke into government offices to loot and vandalise. Then I graduated to a ‘face’, discovering an aptitude for looking sweet and talking pretty while they burgled the unsuspecting target. I gained prestige in the gang (and smiles from Stellar) by persuading a suspicious guardspony that the sacks of money and documents we carried were props for our school drama group, rather than the spoils of ambushing an official on his way home. The official himself was tied up in his own filing cabinet.
Months went by. Pretty soon I had money enough to flaunt, and flaunt it we did. I had come a long way from fighting over food with the street colts. I proudly wore the signature riveted jacket of our band of thieves, and my mane was slicked back with pointlessly expensive oils. We had more members than we knew what to do with, and the other gangs kept out of our way.
Times were good. Not for other ponies but for us, which was all that mattered. The streets opened up, I could go anywhere, do anything, with anypony, with no consequences. But there was only one filly who occupied my thoughts.
Then the authorities caught up. Without warning our ponies began to vanish. Our smuggling routes were raided with unnerving accuracy, the protection rackets dried up, and our names were no longer good collateral. Ponies started to realise that hanging around with us was bad for business and bad for health, even though nopony knew where they were taken.
Stellar became increasingly worried, even though she refused to show it. Dark circles appeared under her beautiful golden eyes as she struggled to maintain the intricate web of contacts that kept us afloat. It hurt me to see her this way.
One morning she summoned us to her office. It was mostly just the old gang left; me, Bolt-On, Legend, Clink and a couple of the braver newbies, the hangers on having fled almost overnight. We filed into the gloomy compartment, and stood fidgeting before the elegant mahogany desk. Stellar was seated behind it in a circle of yellow lamplight, head in her hooves over a strewn pile of papers. She looked up, and my heart lurched when I saw how haunted she was.
“We have a job...” she stated flatly. Pausing, she rubbed her eyes and continued.
“…I got a tip off from our spy in the Royal Celestial Exchange. The feds are moving a whole wagonload of bearer-bonds to the train station. We’re going to steal it...”
Chaos ensued. Everypony began talking at once, mostly about how we were going to take a heavily guarded wagon from beneath the noses of armed soldiery with just the seven of us. Eventually a plan was salvaged from the throng. In three days it would begin. We would lie in wait for the truck to pass an alleyway beyond the Exchange, where Bolt-On would have prepared something to dispose of the guards. We would then drive it to a warehouse on the docks, where the bonds would be shipped to a safehouse down the coast and stay there until the heat died down. Simple enough, on paper anyway.
We filed out, to contemplate, or to pray.
“Just one moment…”
I turned on the threshold.
Stellar smiled wearily, a hint of her former self returning, and impatiently waved me over. A large square bottle, wreathed in silvery magic, floated from a drawer and opened itself. Two glasses followed it.
“A little bracer?” I asked, sitting before the desk.
“My breakfast” she replied ruefully, watching the amber liquid trickle forth into a glass, the bottle clinking slightly against the rim.
We sat and drank. The whiskey was mediocre, tasting of caramel blended with battery acid. The glasses chimed again.
I was loath to break the pleasant quiet, but I felt compelled to speak.
“What’s the catch with this job?”
She blinked. “None, why?”
“It’s too big. We’ve never done this kind of thing before. Nicking things, yes. Some knife-work, yes. But this? They won’t let this go easily. They’ll hunt us”
“You’ve gotten smart since running with me…” she sighed in annoyance.
I smiled slightly at the back-hoofed compliment.
“The thing is…” she looked down at the desk, angry and shamefaced “…the thing is we’re desperate. We owe money to some old friends of mine who won’t stay friendly forever”
The implications sunk in. I hadn't met our friends before, the ones who shared our little patch of Manehatten underworld. But they were there all right, as numerous trash-can burials testified. The room seemed to get darker, and the shadows grew knives.
“Nightmare's blood...How’d this happen Stel?" A note of reproach entered my voice, and her gaze snapped up.
“Ever since all the losses began we’ve gotten behind! I don’t think you know what it’s like running a fucking crime syndicate all by your fucking self, smart arse!”
“Ok, ok I get it…” I held out my fore-hooves in a conciliatory gesture. “You’re the biggest bitch in the room, jeez…”
“Damn right I am!” she said with satisfaction, taking another triumphant swig of the disgusting spirit. I followed suit, the whiskey burning a molten path down my throat.
I wiped my lips and leaned a foreleg on the desk, supporting my weary head.
“You sure the source is reliable?”
“Yeah, she’s stuck with us since the beginning, never let us down.”
She rested her muzzle on the desk with forelegs for a pillow, casting a night sky’s worth of stars around the gloomy office as her mane shifted. She stared immobile at the empty glasses, jaw working silently. I hadn’t seen it often, but I knew that look.
She wanted to tell me something. Something important. Something close to her, so close that to reveal it would mean shedding the armour of the cruel streets and saying what she felt without bravado. Stellar could be...turbulent at these times, and I wasn't sure whether to stay and try to help, or jump out the window.
I stayed.
“Stellar… what’s wrong?” I asked as gently as I could.
Her gaze was locked on the glass, and her voice cracked slightly.
“It’s shit y’know? I’m responsible for them all, all the little ponies the feds took because of what we do. Who knows what’s happened to them, what they’ve done…”
A tear wound down her cheek.
Stunned, I reached out and brushed it away.
Stellar looked up, and I was lost. The inner strength I saw blazing within her golden eyes, the determination coupled with tenderness, completely ensnared me. She burned, a bright flame in an otherwise desolate and callous existence. I was gone, taken.
I had never loved anypony more.
We leaned close, noses almost touching…
“Oh shit…” she whispered, and we kissed, brushing gently together like warm dry ice.
*** *** ***
Three days… It wasn’t enough time to describe the feeling of having so many fears and uncertainties just fall away. There was no doubt now, no more of the countless petty worries. Nothing really mattered except Stellar and I sharing something unique. We saw each other as much as possible, despite the whispers of resentment from the gang, and whenever they spoke out of turn she just smacked them down harder. I was laid low by her brilliance, my every waking moment devoted. I would be constantly waiting for her presence, and when she approached my heart leapt. She would watch me as I walked past, a small and secret smile on her lips.
Things were perfect.
*** *** ***
Then it was time.
My every breath echoed inside the sweltering gas hood, filling my head with its hissing, and my pulse beat an anxious rhythm to the suddenly glacial seconds. We were lurking in the appointed alleyway, huddled in the shadows between the monolithic towers of the financial district and awaiting the arrival of the wagon carrying enough money to buy Luna’s throne right out from under her.
Anxious clicking reached my muffled ears as the others checked their weapons again. I followed suit, levitating the ten-gauge pump action sawn-off that would be raining indiscriminate death. I worked the mechanism, producing the same bloodthirsty ch-chack.
Time passed, and we twitched and paced with impatience.
“They’re late” hissed Bolt-On through the respirator.
“Give them time” murmured Stellar.
Silence. Patrols tramped back and forth along the route cleared for the convoy.
Suddenly, the growl of engines. I edged up to the corner and peeked around. The threatening bulk of an armoured cart was cruising along the road, the imperial crest emblazoned on its riveted panels. Behind it was a looming wall of radiator grille, the blunt snout of the heavy hauler that was our quarry. I nodded to the others.
“It’s time…”
Bolt-On withdrew a detonator from the pockets of his BDU, and pressed the trigger.
BOOM
A shuddering vibration shook the ground as a series of bombs placed along the road detonated. The air rang with shattering glass and cries of pain as the towers shed their windows, raining glittering shards upon the guards unfortunate enough to be in the street.
The road filled with choking smoke as the secondary payloads did their work, enveloping the convoy and rendering their turrets useless.
We sprinted from the alley, running for the wagon which was blocked from escape by its immobile escort, whose tires had been shredded. Gunfire erupted from my comrades as coughing guards emerged from their vehicles, cutting them down. We reached the cab just as the uniformed drivers toppled out choking.
One of them had a pistol in his mouth.
I fired.
The shotgun bucked viciously in its field of magic, spitting fire, the thunderous shot making my ears ring. The guard pony was smashed off his hooves, to collapse limply like a puppet with its strings cut.
We scrambled into the truck with Legend at the wheel with the sharpest reflexes. I sat, trembling. I had killed before out of necessity, but the sight of the pony smacking to the ground like dead meat, with great gaping rents in his flesh from the burning lead made me nauseated and feverish. I retched emptily behind the mask, hoping nopony would notice.
Then Stellar’s hoof was on my shoulder. I turned my head. She was seated behind me and had taken the mask off, her face flushed from the stifling rubber. But she was grinning triumphantly, the excitement of conflict lighting her countenance. A rebel angel, beautiful, free and deadly. I would be strong for her.
My shaking stopped. I tore off the mask, breathing deeply of the cordite scented air, and smiled back gratefully.
*** *** ***
The wagon lurched and the magic engine ground unhealthily as Legend piloted the unwieldy vehicle through an agreed series of alleys and byways to avoid pursuit. Eventually we reached the docks, and rolled to a halt at the depot where the container with the bonds would be lifted onto a trawler and spirited away. Leaving Legend and the two lesser members on guard Stellar led us inside the warehouse, to make the final arrangements with the captain of the ship. Our hooves clattered sharply on the floor, echoing as we trotted through the winding corridor to the central loading bay.
We emerged into the cavernous chamber. It was empty. The great doors leading out to sea were closed, the trawler conspicuously absent, cold water lapping sluggishly on the bare slipway.
We heard the harsh bark of gunshots, accompanied by horribly familiar screams.
“Oh shit…”
The ceiling imploded, carrying with it the dark suited figures of armed pegasi. Within seconds I was face down on the cold, uncaring concrete, with nothing but a sense of immense unfairness and an unknown number of gun barrels pointed at my head. The others were similarly pinned, although Clink had fought like a demon before being submerged under black armoured bodies.
Hooves clicked close, and a set of armoured greaves entered my field of vision.
“Package located and under wraps. We also have somepony else’s mail. Orders?”
The voice was distorted, as if it was being forced through a rebreather grille. There was a moment of silence as it awaited a reply.
“Affirmative. Unit Six! Prepare the package for transport and clean up the mess!”
I looked up. The pegasus was armoured all in black, military spec, way beyond anything we poor, thieving ponies could ever afford. The long gun mounted on the suit whirred downwards to point between my eyes, leaving me staring into a dark tunnel while pale, soulless lenses gazed down at me dispassionately.
“Say goodnight scum”
Metal clinked. Bolt-On lay a short distance away, with a peaceful smile on his scarred features. A hatch in his prosthetic leg was open, and a small silvery apple was spinning gently on the floor.
“Oh fuck grena...!”
For the second time today the ground trembled as the grenade exploded. The pony holding my forelegs was ripped away, and my ears felt like they’d been punched six feet into my skull. All was silent now save a faint ringing, and I could see Clink mouthing something, something about running. I could feel something bleeding.
Then I was lifted. A force embraced me, shimmering light that held me gently above the blood-stained floor and away from all the filth and clamour. My vision swam, and I drifted towards a grey square of luminescence.
I thought this was the end.
I was therefore surprised when I emerged from the warehouse and into the air, my hearing returning with a pop and pain clawing my flank with fiery knives.
Stellar rose up before me, horn glowing like a needle of starlight. She was bloodied, filthy, but alive.
“Get a grip! You’ll be fine just…hang on!” she shouted furiously.
I felt it would be unwise to disobey and struggled upright, but the magic around me held me still.
“I’m fine! Lose the damn magic I can’t bloody move!” I yelled, my voice arriving from somewhere else.
She laughed, crazily, and released the enchantment. I tottered, my legs shuddering as the gash along my flank stabbed again. It was shallow though. It would hold. Without a word we ran, galloping for the maze of shipping containers along the docks. Bullets spanged all around was we ran between the narrow walls of corrugated metal. We sprinted side by side, both aching for respite but knowing that to stop would be to die.
Left. Right. Right again. Colours flashed past as we ran for our lives. We skidded to a stop at a junction to catch our breath, as well as to stop me from bleeding to death. I winced as without a thought Stellar tore the lining from her prized jacket to use as bandages.
“Sorry Stel, I know how much you liked that thing…” I managed to groan as I lay in an expanding pool of my own blood.
She glared but was silent as she tightened the cloth, drawing a pathetic whimper from me as it bit around the wound. I felt ashamed.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be so fucking stupid!” She snapped as she slumped down beside me.
“Well I have lost an awful lot of blood, don’t expect me to be at my top stallionly form…”
Suddenly she embraced me, her head against my shoulder. She was shaking.
“Please don’t die…” she said in a tiny, quiet voice.
I sighed and returned the hug. Her silvery mane brushed my cheek, dishevelled and smelling of gun-smoke. I felt her panicked breath.
“I love you too…”
There was a crack, warm wetness spilled, and something pierced my chest. I looked down. Stellar’s silvery mane brushed my cheek, dishevelled and smelling of gun-smoke, stained red. Her breath was still.
“Stellar?…”
There was no way…she was the strongest, most beautiful mare in the world. There was no way…
“Stel...”
No answer. I felt afraid.
“No…”
There was no way…
Head dropping back…her lovely face, eyes closed as if in prayer…
“…No! NO! You can’t die! YOU CAN’T DIE!"
I cried as the dark ones descended.
*** *** ***
The soldiers came and took us away. We went from one dark room to another, but I wouldn’t let them touch her. Eventually I awoke from a deep sleep to find her gone.
I sobbed in the darkness, for the last good thing to enter my life before cruel fate gleefully condemned. I sobbed for her, her bright flame quenched by a callous trigger. I sobbed as they approached with shiny needles. I sobbed as I entered a new universe of pain.
*** *** ***